Leave Out All the Rest
by Emerald-Kisses
Summary: He was a man who had everything. But one fateful day changes his entire perspective on life and Draco Malfoy realizes that he has nothing; with life growing shorter by the minute, he searches for love and redemption before his time is up. D/Hr.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Prologue**

She sat on the couch, watching as the flames died down, wine forgotten on the table beside of her as she absentmindedly petted her cat. Her eyes held a faraway, dazed look of someone caught in the midst of a reverie of sorts, mind drifting farther away from the living room, floating back to a time where things may or may not have been better, slipping into a world of memories.

Pictures held in golden frames dotted the mantle, smiling faces waving down at her, bodies dancing under the falling leaves and thick snowflakes, a couple dancing merrily, the woman's ivory gown nearly immersing the entire photograph in white. In the background, beyond the sound of the faintly crackling fire, soft music played from an unknown source, an almost melancholic tune that fit the situation to perfection. Low and dreary, a quiet harmony that rose and fell in a lulling sound that risked to pull one's mind into the realm of sublime.

In spite of the dreary imagery, the dying embers and sad tune, the brightly furnished living room stood out starkly against the growing shadows of the night. The white couches and green rugs, the white drapery that hung around the bay window that looked out into the growing night. There were more photographs, on end tables, a glass coffee table, dotting the bookshelves where there was space. The room seemed to an entire refuge of sorts, a way of falling back into the memories as the images of the past watched on, smiling and waving, dancing in their frames just as they danced in the woman's mind.

Her lips were curled in a faint smile, as though she could hear laughter or a joke in her mind, a faint memory brushing at her, teasing her, threatening to pull her completely back in time as she recalled the joy she had felt at that moment in time.

A clock ticked somewhere in the house, probably the large grey one in the kitchen, fighting to remind her of the time and date, trying to tell her that she couldn't dwell on the past; time moved on. Time never stopped, time never went back, time kept going in a forward motion that was headless of what anyone else wanted.

Time…she never did have enough time. It had felt like a long time at first, felt as though she had had forever to wait, forever to do what she wanted, but time…time waited for no one. Time never slowed down, time never sped up, it went at its own pace and never once listened to her pleas that it slow down and let her enjoy the moments even more.

The clock continued to tick, almost as though in beat to the melancholic tune that floated through the air, rising and falling until they reached her deaf ears. She did not heed their sounds, did not obey the ticking sound of time, nor the sad melody that attempted to penetrate the shield she had put up around herself. She was lost in the past, unwilling to be drawn back into the present.

Slowly, through the dim hallway, a small figure became illuminated by the faint light. Thin and petite, the young girl shivered as the warmth gradually faded from the home was light gave way to darkness. Hugging her arms to her chest, she padded over to the woman sitting on the couch, unaware of the woman's distant thoughts.

"Mum?" her voice was quiet, soft, almost a matching sound to the music and ticking clock, rising with question just as the tempo increased just the slightest bit.

To the woman, however, the low voice was like a gunshot in the dark, loud and sharp, a sound that snapped all attention to it, pulling everything and everyone away from what they were doing. It commanded attention, tearing her away from her memories to drag her back to the present.

The clock ticked on, the music faded as another song began, and the last ember threatened to die in the hearth. Her eyes blinked softly, once, twice, before she breathed out a quiet sigh of sadness before turning to the figure beside her.

"Viola," she said softly, wishing that her voice were sterner, "what are you doing out of bed at this hour? We have to get up early tomorrow."

Shuffling her feet, the girl looked down at the floor, wriggling her toes in the plush carpet. "I know," she replied, reaching a hand to twine a finger through her pale, curly locks. "But…I couldn't sleep."

Instantly, whatever terseness in the mother's tone faded away and she reached out to her daughter with a comforting touch. "Are you nervous about starting school tomorrow?"

"Kind of," her daughter mumbled, allowing herself to be pulled into her mother's arms.

"You don't have to be," the woman replied gently, stroking her daughter's wild hair. "You'll know a lot of people; James and Hugo will be there, and so will Victoire and Teddy, and it's going to be Albus's first day, too, so you will have someone to sit with on the boat ride."

"I'm not worried about that," Viola replied, lifting her head back to stare at her mother with her bright whiskey eyes, the exact same eyes as the woman in front of her. "I just…well…Scorpius said something the other day that worried me."

Sighing softly at the girl's reference to her younger brother, the mother shifted the cat over to the side and got to her feet, intending to lead her daughter back to bed as she answered her questions.

"And what did he say?" she asked as they made their way back down the darkened hallway.

"He told that the other day in class, everyone was supposed to talk about their parents," Viola replied, following her mother up the stairs to the bedrooms on the second floor, "and, well…he said that the teacher found it odd that he didn't know anything about dad."

The woman's back stiffened and it took all of her willpower not to stop at that very moment. Blinking rapidly to fight back the threatening onslaught of memories, she took in several deep, calming breaths, willing her mind to focus on the stairs and nothing else.

"And…you want to know what your father did?" She knew exactly what her daughter wanted to know, knew precisely why her daughter was asking this question in the first place. She had tried, for so hard, to avoid this conversation at any and all costs, using various excuses whenever the topic arose. Now, in the middle of night, as shadows and darkness surrounded them, she had no choice but to face the topic head on.

"Well, it got me thinking," her daughter replied in that precise, serious voice of hers that she had definitely inherited from her mother, "and I realized that you…you never told us anything about dad."

The mother moved out of the way for her daughter to walk into the bedroom, chancing a glance down the hallway to the bedroom where her son soundly slept, snoring almost as loudly as his father had. A faint smile fluttered across her lips, a bittersweet tilting of the lips that held both pain and love. Lowering her head, she breathed out before following her daughter into the room.

"I…well, you never really asked," the mother answered as she began to tuck her daughter back into bed.

"I know," Viola replied, adjusting the pillow for comfort, "and maybe I should have…but now, I kind of want to know."

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to be defeated as she moved over and pulled a nearby chair to the bedside. Sitting down in it, she reached out and gently brushed an errant curl away from her daughter's brow.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Her heart twisted with pain at the knowledge that now, in just a few seconds, she would be telling an entire life story, a story that she had tried so hard to remove from her memories, but a story that time would never let her forget. Each time the clock ticked, she was reminded, each time those soft, sad tunes played, her memories stirred, and every night, in front of the fireplace that held so many memories, her mind drifted off to a time where light and happiness encompassed her life.

Swallowing past the pain of regret and guilt, she leaned down and said quietly, "Where to start…?"

"Anywhere, mum, I want to know everything; how you first met, when you fell in love, everything about dad. I want to know what he did, how, where he lived, every little thing about him." Pausing, her daughter then added on a second note; "I have the right to know about my dad, mum."

"Let me first tell you," the woman said, "that you are your father in every way and form."

As her daughter smiled up at her, the mother leaned back in the chair, running a hand through her dark brown curls, debating briefly over how to begin retelling such a story. Sighing softly, Hermione Granger-Malfoy ignoring time's ticking clock, ignoring the sad music and dying embers, began to slip back in time and retell the life of the man she once loathed and loved.

* * *

**Now, this fic will take on a more serious tone than my others in the past. The prologue is short, yes, but I find it profound enough to fit the storyline. **

**This will be a longer fic, I am warning you all now, and it will involve angst, depression, death, along with romance, humour and friendship. **

**I am warning you: it will take on a darker tone near the end, but I will not give everything away now.**

**This is a different style of writing than what I've done so far; I used to really enjoy writing angsty fics when I was younger (tbh, I think I was actually suffering from a form of depression, but, you never know), but I haven't done any of late.**

**Unlike my MCMM 'series,' I will not write down review overviews. But, critical criticism is very much encouraged, and if you see any spelling/grammar mistakes that I have missed, please feel free to let me know.**

**I am also adding one more warning: this fic will probably be slow to update. I am focusing most of my energies on Kiss Me Freely, and then this one, so please bear with me as I try to write both fics, as well as study for mid-terms and write essays. **

**This fic came to me as I listened to the song "Leave Out All the Rest" by Linkin Park, and the song title actually fit perfectly for this fic. So, it has inspired me.**

**Thank you for reading and please do not forget to review.**

**Take care.**


	2. Nefertiti's Diamond

**Quick note: I will be using the original dates for this fic. Usually, I adjust them because I want to include modern events, but I don't see the need to in this case.**

**The year is 2002, which means Hermione will be 23, Draco will be 22. This fic will be DH compatible with a few exceptions, and non-epilogue compliant ('cause that Epilogue was seriously just shot out of her damn arse). **

**P.S. It may be a slow start, but I kind of want to emphasize the time it would take for them to get to their location, and I really don't want to just start off right away with the main event. Build up, baby. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing and if you do not like to see Draco in pain, I'm sorry, but that happens in this chapter. **

**Chapter 1**

**Nefertiti's Diamond**

It was a hot, dry day, the sun glowing brilliantly in the sky, heat waves morphing and twisting the horizon as the sun beat down on the unaware and unprotected people below. The sand was burning, the roads so heated that most feared putting a single bared piece of skin on them. Sweat sluiced down every body, skin flushed bright from the combination of heat and sunlight, and, yet, the city was flourishing and busy.

People bustled about the streets, searching for the right foods for the market, unwilling to let the torrential heat wave ruin their good moods. People shouted out prices, women and men looked over the products, trying to barter with the stall-owners for a more reasonable price.

He pushed through the crowd, followed by his three assistants and a couple of goblins, ignoring a wizard nearby shouting for them to come and buy some spectacular beetle wings that were used for protection against the sun.

He knew that if beetle wings could protect him from the heat; he would have covered his entire body in them instead of the simple, white cloth cap over his head.

Turning to his partner of three years, he couldn't help but be amazed that the man managed to remain cool and relaxed in spite of the heat. His red hair flamed in the sun, his freckles almost hidden behind the thick tan that covered him from head to toe. The earring on his ear glinting in the sunlight, almost to an irritating point if he hadn't become accustomed to it rather quickly.

"How long do you think we'll be today?"

The redhead, a man identified as William "Bill" Weasley, shrugged his shoulders and wiped several beads of sweat from his brow, slipping on a white hood similar to the blond's in front of him. "Who knows? They said that Amenhotep IV placed a lot of spells and curses on his wife's tomb, a lot of them due to his rage towards the people that killed her."

"He's the one that changed his name to Akhenaten, correct?"

"Yes."

The other man, roughly the same height as Bill, shrugged his shoulders. "Well, this will certainly prove to be an interesting experience."

Bill laughed, clapping a hand onto his partner's shoulder, chuckling even louder as his partner's grey eyes glared at him. "Don't worry; I'm sure we'll just find the basic curses. I'm more interested in finally finding the body of Nefertiti."

"I will be cause quite the commotion, won't it?" The man lifted his cap, running his hands through his white blonde hair, before sliding it back onto his head.

"I don't know who is going to be more excited, the Muggles or the Wizarding world," Bill replied as they finally made their way out of the bustling crowd of one of many wizard markets in Cairo, Egypt. They found themselves on a small boardwalk running parallel to the Nile, who shimmered and glowing a brilliant blue in the sun.

Draco Malfoy had to admit, in spite of the horrendous heat, Egypt was a beautiful place to be. The sand shimmered in the sun, as though diamonds were embedded within every inch of the desert, the waves of heat dancing and twirling in the sunlight as they rose from the ground, reaching up to play with the pure, cloudless azure skies above. The Nile rose and fell, soft, quiet waves that were so unlike the treacherousness of the river.

Stopping at a dock, Draco looked down at the boat stationed near the end, quite excited to get this excursion along the way. For the past three years, since he had turned 19, he had been going on various trips with Bill to Egypt, almost as a pastime. Being a curse-breaker was not his official job; he just enjoyed doing random odd-jobs here or there to further increase his reputation and indulge himself and his whims.

"This might be my last trip for a while," he said as they lowered themselves to the dock.

Bill looked down to him, arching a brow in confusion. "Why is that?'

Draco shrugged as he stepped onto the wooden platform, enjoying the rocking sensation of the waves moving the dock. "I've got a lot of things to deal with at work," he replied sincerely. "I've got a few major contracts coming up, so I might not be able to come back for a good while."

"Well then," Bill said, landing on the dock and helping a goblin down, "let's make this one the most memorable, shall we?"

Nodding, they stationed themselves in the boat and enjoyed the cool, crisp air of as they sped through the water. The goblins were unable to enjoy the sensation of the cool water splashing on their faces; they were rapidly moving out of magical territory and making their way into Muggle-inhabited land. The small Wizard market was left behind, hidden behind the large, stone walls that, when looked upon by a Muggle, appeared to be nothing but an ancient site that as unstable and inaccessible by the Muggles.

They had docked at the very southern end of Cairo, leaving the skyscrapers, glowing buildings, and monuments behind, and avoiding going under the bridges that connected Giza to the capital city. Instead, they found themselves thrust between farmlands, the fertile Nile enabling the grass to grow thick and the crops to be plentiful so long as they were grown as close as possible to the river.

He sat back, watching as the sun rose into the sky as the hours shifted closer to noon. It would be a long ride, perhaps almost as long as it would take by train, but going by boat meant that they would not need to figure out why they had several short, green-skinned beings with them, and there were no Wizarding trains to Luxor.

Draco was anticipating his trip to the Valley of the Kings, quite pleased that his last mission with the group would be to excavate and curse-break the possible tomb of Nefertiti. There had even been speculation that tomb #63 was the second tomb of Tutankhamun, perhaps his original tomb. But, if that was so, then why were there curses protecting it?

Sitting back, he tossed Bill a water bottle when the man asked for one, lowering his head occasionally to ensure that the goblins were doing well in the cabin, who were quite pleased with the size of it. Draco had to admit, Bill had made a nice choice by choosing a quite lovely sport boat. Not only was it big and comfortable, but it went fast, which was a necessity.

Slipping on a pair of sunglasses, he closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the water splashing on his face, cooling down his warm skin, as they sped along the Nile. He only had about an hour or so before Bill would take a pause to eat and Draco would take over.

Breathing deeply, he began to doze off; they had been forced to get up rather early, wondering just how much longer it would be until they got to their location.

* * *

"Sweet Circe, the heat never stops!"

Bill chuckled from his left, watching as Draco docked and tied the boat. "After three years you're still not used to the heat? You are one hundred percent privileged."

"Not privileged," Draco panted, having used a large amount of strength to ensure that the ropes were tied tightly enough. "Just more accustomed to England's lovely weather…I'd take the constant raining over this bloody heat any day. It's…what…7 o'clock in the evening and it's still bloody hot out!"

Bill watched as a couple of goblins rolled their eyes, adjusting their backpacks for comfort and sat on the dock, waiting patiently for the two men to finishing docking the boat.

"It will cool down at night," Bill reassured Draco, something he did every time they had gone on a curse-breaking job together.

"I know," the blond sighed, rubbing his hands over his sun-kissed cheeks, "but the heat is still overwhelming, no matter how much time you spend here."

"That's true…"

"Oy! Stop that chitchat and get your asses over here!"

Bill and Draco lifted their heads, staring at the tall, slightly portly yet muscular, man who stood at the end of the dock, waving a hat in the air. They would have thought that he was any other tourist if it weren't for the fact that he wore the curse-breaker insignia on the front of his pale robes, and that they had met him before.

"Evening Alex," Bill greeted the man once the boat was set in place and they had made their way over to him. He reached out and clasped the man's hand in his, shaking it with a grin on his face. "How are you doing?"

"Good, good," the man – Alex – replied with a returning smile. "How about you, Draco?"

In turn, Draco greeted and responded to the man, and watched as the Wizard turned to the goblins, greeting them in fashion, and spun around to lead the way to a nearby Jeep. The man began to talk avidly to Bill, hands waving as he began to talk about the weather, how long it took to get to Luxor, and a variety of other things. Draco simply watched as they stepped into yet another Wizarding quarter, this time far older fashioned than the one in Cairo, but with fewer shops and a few more tourist attractions. There were several stalls offering mummy wrappings that were either fake or were obtaining illegally.

He watched the man, their American assistant, with annoyance and appreciation. While the man was rather loud and boisterous, and knew no end to his speech, he was brilliant in his work and with him helping; they would be done within a day. For that, Draco felt a mixture of joy and sadness; his last day as a curse-breaker had come and he really didn't want to leave. He had developed such an amazing relationship with Bill, had experienced things he had never thought he'd experience before, had received the strangest varieties of injuries and had met a myriad of people who would remain within him for years to come.

He loved this job, loved the work, and he didn't want it to end. But…he knew, he thought as he climbed into the Jeep, that this was done for the experience and the money. After all his father had lost, he had been fighting for years to regain the Malfoy wealth and reputation. To boot, he enjoyed traveling, loved seeing different places, different people, and experiencing a variety of cultures.

But, work at home was calling, the contracts couldn't sign themselves and he couldn't leave poor Alice in charge for much longer; the woman was four months pregnant and, while she did an outstanding job, he knew that the stress would be too much to be considered healthy.

Sighing softly, he adjusted his cap, watching the streets give way to sandy roads and tan hills, the sun setting on the horizon shooting brilliant rays, as though giving it all in these last moments of the day before its light was extinguished and night blanketed the sky. The sun in Egypt, he found, always sank with a bang, in a halo of light that flashed brightly one final time.

The Valley of the Kings was, essentially, a desert, a valley where nothing grew and everything withered. The heat in the days was almost unbearable, the sun hottest at noon, and air coolest at midnight. The roads were paved leading in, the hills rising up on either side as they made their way through the winding path. Buses were leaving, taking the tourists away from the tombs and back to the towns, and Draco was quite grateful that they had thought of covering the goblins with a thick, cotton sheet.

It was a beautiful sight, the reddish brown hills, reaching up to touch the skies, yet falling quite short. The small paths leading to each tomb, the heat thick in the air, and yet, there was an overwhelming silence. It wasn't the quietness of death, but the silence of peace. In these Valleys, were dozens of tombs rested, there was nothing but a calm, quiet peace that filled the air. It was beckoning, it was sweet, and it eased all fears from one's heart.

In this place of death, there was nothing but peace.

They arrived to the spot, tomb #63, and Draco was also surprised at the modesty of the site. A simple hole in the wall, that's all it was; a door in the hill that led to possible treasures or disappointment. A door that led them back in time, to the world of Antiquity, where things were simpler and more complicated at the same time.

"Tomb #63," Alex announced, running his finger and thumb over his beard. "Excavators found the entrance yesterday, called in the big dogs, most of whom are Wizards, and they decided to call us in. We've got to find any signs of curses, break them, and make our way into the tomb."

"Where are the others?" Bill asked, turning around on the spot to almost emphasize the fact that the six of them were alone outside of the tomb. "Aren't the head archaeologists supposed to be here?'

"They are," replied Alex, "but we got here a little earlier than they expected. I gave them a call when I saw you dock, and they'll be here shortly before nine; they're eating supper."

"Can we get started without them?" Draco asked, lowering his backpack to the ground.

"They gave me the a-okay, so yeah," Alex said, opening his own bag to pull out several instruments, including his wand.

"If we get in trouble," Draco began, opening his bag to remove his equipment, "then I'm putting all the blame on you."

"No one's gonna get in trouble," the American replied, replacing his bag in the Jeep, tucking a lamp onto his head. Turning the knob, the light flickered on, still bright even in the dim sunlight.

One of the goblins, Crawshirk, the tallest of the group, heaved a sigh. "Can we get a move on? I don't want to be here all night."

Alex shrugged and turned to Bill, surprised to see the man already equipped with his headlight, wand, and pouches of substances that would be used to either heal injuries or break the curses. He was already reading the inscription that surrounded the doorway, hovering his fingers just over it, mouthing the words but not saying them aloud. First rule of curse-breaking; never read anything out loud.

Draco quickly joined him on the other side, and Alex examined the area around the door, the goblins joining with their equipment. Soon enough, they discovered very minor curses on the door, used to scare away and injure those who dared enter, but not powerful enough to cause lasting harm. As Bill waved his wand, muttering the spell that would break the curse, Draco pulled out his pouch of crushed lilies mixed with ground unicorn hair, flicking it onto the creases where the door met the threshold.

Once the first set of curses were broken, they began to work their way inside of the antechamber, reading the hieroglyphics engraved and painted into the walls, always silent in their work, occasionally signalling to each other when they needed someone's assistance. Few words were spoken; it was the cardinal rule. Never read aloud, never say anything aloud; any word might trip a spell or curse and cause their death.

Draco was amazed at the beauty of the antechamber; it had been beyond well preserved. Most tombs showed signs of decay or time, some sections broken or battered, some areas showing signs that grave robbers had snuck in, stolen, and managed to escape before the curses took hold. In others, they found the bodies of the cursed, skeletons lying on the ground, hands broken, bones cracked, bits and pieces of linen as the final remnants of their clothing.

Two goblins and Alex broke off to head into the other, smaller chamber, while Bill and Draco moved down the antechamber, the long and low corridor, towards the final resting place of the deceased.

With a quickly spoken word, the two tapped their headlights with their wands, causing the light created to shine tenfold and illuminate the room. The chamber was simple, long and rectangular, walls engraved and painted with hieroglyphics depicting the life, death, and afterlife of the mummy. Some treasures were found about, glinting gold in the corners, stone boxes sitting dully against the walls, while the sarcophagus, a large stone rectangle sat in the middle of the room.

Draco had, after a while, become accustomed to seeing the stone boxes, as opposed to the glimmering golden coffins he had seen in Muggle films or the museums. Inside, he knew, would be the coffin of the films, the shinning gold, the inlaid precious stones, and the body of the deceased.

"I'll start here," Bill whispered, motioning to the artefacts, "get to work on the sarcophagus, and Kreevers, you can start on the other side of the room," he added to the goblin, who had already begun looking over the statues on the floor.

Draco nodded and moved over to the stone rectangle, not touching any of it as he read the hieroglyphics. Quickly enough, he managed to break the curse keeping the lid shut, and, once he was sure of himself, he levitated the slab of a lid off of the coffin and placed it gently on the ground, leaning slightly on the stone coffin.

"Looks like we found her," Bill murmured, standing behind Draco to stare into the sarcophagus.

"As Alex would say, 'everyone is going to shit bricks'," Draco replied with a soft chuckle.

The sarcophagus within was gorgeous, shaped like a human body, with gold and lapis lazuli inlaid to give it a royal glow. The face, unlike King Tutankhamun's, was in the form of the woman's. Her rich, coffee skin was painted a brilliant gold, her sharp jaw, pointed nose, and her large almond eyes were all signature facial features of the infamous Queen Nefertiti. In the center of her forehead, a crown was made of several jewels inlaid in the gold, a tiara of sorts that glowed green and red, emeralds and rubies intertwining on either side to meet in the center at a large diamond.

"Bloody beautiful," Bill sighed, unable to hide the grin that had crept onto his face.

"You're going to be famous," Draco said, watching as Bill moved back to examined the box that held the canopic jars.

"_We're_ going to be famous," the redhead corrected, hovering his wand over the box to decipher and break any spells placed onto the container.

"Try and cut the chitchat," Kreevers snapped, holding his hands around a statue as though moving to cup it, using his magic to remove the spells. "Some of us are trying to work."

Rolling his eyes, Draco flashed another grin to Bill before turning to get back to the sarcophagus. Making his way to the head, where he knew the source of the curses would be, he stepped carefully on the sand-covered floor, trying his hardest not to trip.

"Did we find her?"

He jumped at the voice, spinning on the spot as Bill hissed for silence. Draco spun back around and his feet tangled, the movement twisting his legs in an uncomfortable position. As he tried to untangle his feet, his right foot made contact with a slab on the ground, sending him lurching forward.

"NO!"

He reached out instinctively, not even considering the consequences of his actions, and he fell forward, hand grasping hold of the diamond in the center of Nefertiti's forehead.

The reaction was instantaneous; he did not have a chance to draw in a single breath before the burning erupted from his palm and shot into his body. His blood began to curdle in his veins and it felt as though a million heated needles were sliding through every artery, pushing their way through his bloodstream. His vision blurred from the agony, every molecule of his body on fire, and he felt as though his very flesh was being torn from his body. He couldn't even open his mouth to scream, his throat felt as though he had drunk the very fires of hell and every ounce of moisture instantly dried up.

He was dying…he was on fire, inside and outside and he could do nothing about it. He dimly knew that he had to let go of the diamond, knew that something was very wrong, but all he could think about was the all-consuming agony.

His chest began to burn, as though someone was pressing a hot iron to his bare flesh, engraving his skin with fire, burning it until the skin was charred and cracked, bloody and pus seeping through the blackened skin. His heart was on fire, palpating violently against his ribs, and he found himself unable to breath, as though hot coals were being thrust into his lungs.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head, body burning, and he was ready to give into the pain when he felt the cool, stone floor pressing against his face. His hand sizzled and burned, liquid dripping from his palm, hot, soaking his hand. The sand felt so soft, so soothing against his heated face.

He barely heard the loud cursing, was hardly aware of the sensation of his body slowly lifting into the air, shouts and cries, panic filling the air. He felt weightless, weak as a newborn, and he could not do anything to stop the oncoming darkness that slid over his vision.

* * *

His hand burned. It was the first thing he felt when consciousness slid back into his mind. It hurt, it stung, and it felt as though water was boiling within it, as though the skin had been pressed against a hot iron for hours on end.

His first reaction was to pull it away, but the fog of sleep and the weakness of unconsciousness made his limbs heavy and his body and mind too weak to lift them.

The sheets were cool under his bare flesh, a wonderful contrast to the burning on his hand and now in his chest. He could hear voices speaking in the distant, murmuring softly, just audible over the faint whirring of a nearby machine. There was a gentle breeze in the air, fluttering about, tickling his exposed face and arms. It, like the soft sheets, was soothing and slowly the pain began to ebb away into a dull ache.

His body was heavy, as though weighted down by stones, and his eyes felt glued shut, but he tried to open them nonetheless, fighting back the darkness of unconsciousness in an attempt to wake up and figure out his location.

Everything was so bright…white walls, pale blue curtains, white floors, and white sheets…brilliant and blinding against the faint sunlight trickling in from the opened windows lining the wall to his right. His eyes burned and he squinting, tears forming as he fought to see through the blinding light and allow his pupils to dilate and adjust.

He saw two green forms, blobs almost, blurred visions across the room from where he lay, and, as their shapes began to solidify, he was quite surprised to see Crawshirk and Wrenchley, two goblins, sitting almost impatiently on uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs.

Turning his head, a movement that seemed to take forward to perform, he found the door to the left occupied with two human forms. The bright red hair told him that the closer one was Bill Weasley; while the long, white robes of the other, petite figure indicated that she was a Healer. They were talking in hushed tones, almost as though they were afraid to wake him.

He opened his mouth and his voice came out as a loud croaking sound and he swore he felt the skin inside of his throat crack. Bill spun around on the spot and the Healer's almond eyes widened with shock. The two of them rushed to his side, the Healer running her wand over his body to examine it, asking him several questions that, at first, confused his addled brain before he began to understand what was being asked.

Turning to face Bill, who was pouring a glass of water and adding a straw, Draco managed to croak out; "What happened?"

"Drink first," Bill said, shoving the straw into Draco's mouth without his consent.

The water down his throat could be described as nothing short of bliss, cool and refreshing, it soaked into his dry flesh, easing his parched throat.

Signalling that he was done, he licked his dry lips for a moment, enjoying the feeling of having a moist throat and the cool sheets against his skin, before asking for answers that he might not want to hear.

He watched the Healer, who moved with speed and precision, checking his vitals, ensuring that no new bruises or marks had appeared on his arms. Her milk chocolate skin glowed with health and vitality under the lights, her green eyes piercing and calculative as she examined every inch of his body.

"My name is Healer Asanet," she said suddenly, her voice soft and thick with an Egyptian accent.

Frowning at her, he decided that his time would be better spent asking questions than staring curiously at the woman healing his body. Bill's skin was paler than it had been that morning, he noticed immediately. It did not have the same vibrant glow as the woman, nor did his eyes hold the same joy or youthful curiosity that they had had that day.

"How long have I been out?" He needed to be able to set a date and time, to see just for how long Bill's face had been pale and drawn.

"Two days," Bill replied, pulling a chair over to sit by his friend and partner's side.

"What…what happened?"

"I…I don't know," Bill said, running a shaking hand through his hair. "One minute, Alex was shouting, the next, I saw you falling forward. Then…you touched that damn diamond. Your whole body went rigid, you couldn't move, you were hardly breathing, and, after a while, your hand started to burn." He couldn't get the scent of charred flesh out of his mind, Bill realized. It saturated his senses, soaked his nose in the sickening scent of burning skin.

"I…I remember…" Draco said softly, feeling the numbing pain edging its way from the palm of his hand up his arm. He tried to squeeze his fingers, tried to thrum them, but found them bound in bandages, unable to move.

"Crawshirk said something about a curse, and I knew I had to get you away," Bill continued, pulling out a water bottle of his own to take a sip. "The second I touched you, it felt like you were on fire." Draco's eyes wandered over the man's hands and he finally noticed that the right one was lightly bandaged. Bill sent him a half-grin when their gazes met. "You literally burned me. But, I managed to get you off."

Draco slumped back on the bed, heaving a loud sigh of relief. "Thank you, Bill," he said, grateful for the man and his everlasting loyalty and kindness. "You saved my life."

"I wasn't so sure," Bill replied. "I…I've seen a lot of people get hit by curses, have them backfire or not broken properly. But…I've never seen anyone get hit with a curse like that."

"You think I was hit by a curse?"

"What else would have caused such a response?" Bill said, moving so that the Healer could check Draco's left side. "You weren't moving, we thought you had died, and we got you here as fast as we could."

"Where's 'here'?" he had to ask.

"The Egyptian branch of St. Mungo's," Asanet replied. "It's located on Aten's Lane, Cairo," she added, placing them in a Wizarding community near central Cairo.

He spoke his thanks before turning his attention back to Bill. "Where are Alex and Kreevers?" He wanted to avoid asking about the curse; something, a niggling part of his mind, was telling him to try and stay away from discussing it as much as possible. It was as though darkness was slowly creeping up on him in the form of the answer, a sense of foreboding that told him that he didn't want to hear the answer, even though he would eventually have no choice.

"They went back to the site." Bill moved back to his spot once the Healer was done. "They wanted to figure out the curse and try to break it."

"You mean…you don't know what it is?" Hope glimmered somewhere in the back of Draco's mind; maybe it was something simple; maybe it could be broken with ease.

"It's a death curse."

His movements were slowed, brain hardly functioning as he turned to face Crawshirk, the speaker. The goblin's raspy voice repeated the words within his mind, like a broken record, reminding him, time and time again, that he had been hit by a death curse.

His mind reeled with the knowledge; heart ached violently in his chest as he felt as though a blow to the stomach had rendered him beyond breathless. Ice flooded his veins and his hand burned with renewed fire.

He had been hit with a death curse…

Disbelief snuck its way through, trying to tell him that it was just not possible, it could not be happening, not something so insane. It only happened in the movies or those romantic novels his mother loved to read. It never happened in real life…death curses just couldn't happen to people.

"Can…can we break it…?" He needed to know the answer, needed to see some semblance of light at the end of the ever darkening tunnel.

"Alex and Kreevers tried…they tried a few spells, a few potions and they…managed to break it…"

He heard the unspoken but, that little word that stopped the hope from lifting him up and spreading a grin across his face.

"The diamond broke," Crawshirk said, voice quietening down with unmistakable sympathy and anxiety. Draco was taken aback; normally, the goblins held no feelings towards their partners whatsoever; they were there to get the job done and that was it.

Something truly awful must have happened for the goblin to feel the slightest twinge of sympathy for him.

"How…did it crack?"

"It shattered," Bill said, rubbing his face with his hand, pulling the skin, emphasizing the lines on his face.

Draco fought to sit up, fought through the weariness in his bones and, with the help of Healer Asanet, he managed to do so, thanking her in the process. "But…just because the diamond broke doesn't mean I won't. It doesn't hurt to try and break the curse on me, right?"

He needed that hope, even if it wasn't false, he needed something to hold on to before someone told him the extent of the curse.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Bill choked out, showing the first sign that he, too, was beginning to break down. There was only so much a man could take, so much a man could see, before the experiences began to crush his spirit. "Usually, the host of the curse is something easy to break, so it's normal if the object breaks. But this…this was a diamond, a very powerful host, and if it shattered…we don't know what might happen if we tried to use the counter-curse on you."

"It doesn't hurt to try."

He didn't mean to shout, really, but…but the pain of knowing that they were giving up so quickly, the image of Bill looking so forlorn and downtrodden when he had only ever seen the man jovial and filled with hope, it made his body rage with frustration.

"Draco…it will hurt. For all we know, it could result in your death, or you could be horribly disfigured or permanently injured. Hell, your body might be ripped apart like the diamond was. We don't want to take the chance."

"Don't just give up!" Draco cried, punching the sheets.

"Please, Mr. Malfoy, calm down," Asanet said softly but firmly. "You need to rest, not become agitated."

He sighed heavily, glancing over to watch as she began to change the bandages around his right hand. Unable to look, for the simple act of looking caused the pain to restart, he turned his attention back to Bill.

"We can't give up," he reiterated, softer this time, but stronger.

"We're not," Bill replied, this time giving his friend a fuller, stronger smile. "Alex and Kreevers are still examining the ruins, trying to see if there's anything else we might have missed, any indication of what the curse would be or do."

"There's…there is no indication of a curse?" Draco asked, rather bewildered at the concept that the curse had not left a physical mark on him.

"If you were to lower the sheet," Asanet said, "and removed the bandages on your chest, you would find a tattooed brand on your chest. The same goes for your palm." She lifted his bared hand and he winced in reaction. The inside of his palm was a bright pink, the flesh slightly swollen, but it was what lay in the center that caused his reaction. The skin was peeling, darker flesh giving way to new, bright pink skin, in the shape of a small ankh cross. It was as though someone had pressed a hot poker in the shape of the word into his skin and kept it there until his skin had caught fire. In spite of the pain it caused, it was small, hardly reaching his fingers, thumb or wrist.

"Something like that…" he swallowed thickly between words, needing to take a break before he continued, "is one my chest?"

"In the shape of an hourglass," she answered, moving her gaze back down to re-bandage his wounded hand. "It is healing much slower and it is very deep, but you are lucky enough that it did not reach your vital organs."

"Have you ever seen something like this?" He needed to find someone who might know the solution, who might be able to help him.

"I'm afraid not." She really did sound sorry.

"What can we do?" Draco sighed heavily, letting his head flop back against the pillow, closing his eyes to fight back the threatening wave of despair. He had been cursed to die…he didn't know when, didn't know how…but he had been cursed.

"We keep trying to find a solution," Bill said softly, placing a hand on Draco's forearm in a brotherly gesture.

"Is…is there any other information we might have that could be helpful?"

"From what I can tell, it is probably slow-acting. Usually the waiting period is about three days, but typically by the beginning of the second, the victims show signs of the curse. For all we know, it could take years before it's activated. We also know that you cannot transmit it to others; some need to wear full protective gear to prevent the curse from spreading through the entire population."

"Like the Black Plague?" It was common Wizarding knowledge that the Black Plague had been started by a group of robbers who had been cursed when trying to steal the remnants of a sorceress from Alexandria.

"Yes. So, you're very lucky that it's not the case."

"But…we do not know how to get rid of it without possibly killing me?"

"No," Bill said quietly.

"Is there anything we _can_ do?"

"We'll keep searching, keep looking for a solution. We won't stop, even after we've exhausted all of our leads. Remember," Bill flashed him a real smile, "Weasleys don't give up, and I don't think Malfoys do either."

'_No,_' Draco thought, '_Malfoys don't give up.'_ Malfoys fought tooth and nail for as long as they could until they got the answers they wanted. The only problem Draco saw was that he didn't have all of the time in the world.

He was cursed to die…

* * *

**Here's the first chapter.**

**I know it's a bit long'ish in that I've spent a bit describing Egypt and the Valley of the Kings, but I really want to spread the imagery. I also wanted to show the comfort Draco had established around Bill, although more of their relationship, such as how they dealt with being partners, will be more developed in the next chapter.**

**So of you may have been expecting this to be a first-person view story, but I don't necessarily like them because I can't always get every single emotion I want in those kinds of stories. And I know others were expecting more of a story-being-retold aspect, but I, again, I find it hard to convey everything when it is written as such. **

**Anyway, I hope that you have enjoyed this. It will be getting a little more dramatic and a bit more exciting as we go on, with romance on its way. This story, I will say, is probably going to be rather long, because I have so much I want to include and cover. But, we'll see. **

**Concerning reviews: critical criticism is always appreciated. Please, feel free to let me know what I can do to improve my writing and I will consider your suggestions (if you tell me to cut off my fingers and die, then I will most certainly not consider that).**

**For those wondering about Kiss Me Freely: the next chapter is on its way. I just wanted to get more than one chapter of this up before I really delve myself back in Draco and Hermione's Post-Christmas story. I've also been very sick for the past few days and my concentration has gone to shit. But I'm better now!**

**Thank you for reading and please feel free to press that little button below and leave me a review. ^.^  
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